Snow means one thing around here: Cabin Fever. When we get this much snow, and this much freezing cold (-13° wind chill? A heat wave at 41°?) it’s nuts.
So of course, I stayed in and caught up on stuff. Translation: I stayed in and got attacked by needy, needy kittens. And instead of de-fuzzing the sofa, I stripped it, and made a fort.
When they weren’t jumping my sheisse, they helped make the bed…
Later, I snuck down to put foam tube insulation on the water pipes in the Swamp Room. Because it’s cold outside. Also, because I had a nightmare about pipes bursting. And zombies. Of course, I listened. So no zombie apocalypse on my watch y’all. You’re welcome.
It’s easier to use than it looks. Because I know it looks horrible, but waiting til it’s freezing = grabbing a bunch of various sizes. I’ll even things out eventually…
Because I’m too lazy to do much of anything else. Seems I’ve re-herniated my L4/L5, so I’m on “light duty” for 3 months. Thought I was better yesterday, but today’s haircut & shopping left me achy. And scared; I hate the idea of another surgery. Positive, happy opening paragraph!
Anyway, here’s what I’ve been up to, beside drinking. Wine, spine; it’s gotta help because they rhyme. I’m a genius!
Superbowl noms! (My cookies from the last post are in the front round Tupper.)
Gem Cutters Guild meeting — and my favorite machine, the buffer. Makes all the (metal) things shiny!
Manny, helping me with reviewing stuff. As I’m home, I did a boatload of reviewing this week.
Tippi, deciding that I’ve done TOO much reviewing this week. “Outside! Get outside! Or off your butt! Really human.”
Rose! Because treat yo’ self. Plus, it’s light green. Kewl!
After over 10 years, it was time to bid farewell to my old mattress. It’s been through a lot with me; recovering from divorce, illnesses, loves, hates, and new locations. But the firm was gone. In fact, it was downright wobbly.
So welcome New Mattress!
It’s nice and firm, with a bit of memory foam stuff on top that I’m still getting used to.
But daaaamn is it high up! I have to scooch & hop to get up. (That didn’t happen at the store; apparently my bed is higher than their frames.)
Made up fully, it’s like Killamanjaro:
But I think I’ll get the hang of it. Perhaps I should have looked into a thinner boxspring? Naaah.
Kitties are freaked the hell out. Tippi, of course, is the first to break here fear spiral.
After a bit, she decided that the best way to check out New Mattress is the old fashioned way.
No word from Manny. Guessing he’s picking up the organs he plotzed.
I’m totally counting this as a resolution achieved, even though I think I forgot to list it. But my back – which has been hating the old mattress – thinks New Mattress definitely counts as an achievement.
So I do the only thing I can do; I head out the front door, use the universal kitty call – “psst psst psst” – and up runs a beautiful deep ginger kitty. He’s freezing, and after running around the house for a few minutes (Tippi and Manny safely ensconced in my bedroom), he decides that one of the catnip toys is The Shiznit.
I crate him – hooray for still having that borrowed crate! – and he settles right in. BTW, Tippi and Manny seem to be fine, and Manny snuggles with me overnight.
This morning, I run to BARCS to borrow a carrier (figured why not, as he’s going over anyway), and at 11 when the drop off clinic opens, Pumpkin and I head out.
He’s now safe, warm, and most likely vaccinated. Sadly, no microchip. But he’s so sweet that he should be adopted asap. No pics because brain. Sigh.
But I feel like I’ve accomplished something decent. Several FB friends have said that I did a good thing. But for me? I don’t feel like I can accept their warm fuzziness. It was the only thing I could have done. This wasn’t me doing good. It was me doing the only thing that I could live with.
Y’know, besides taking Pumpkin in forever. Because if I know anything now, I know my kitty limits.
Well, so far 2015 has been disappointing. Kitty disasters and freeeeeezing weather (it’s currently 8 degrees, wind chill -7). Bleah. Do better, 2015.
But when I took the trash out yesterday morning, I saw what can only be called Rat Art – the patterns of their tails and paws in the snow.
There were also larger prints, from the local alley/throwaway cats, which broke my heart. Cats aren’t supposed to be out in this weather, they don’t burrow in like rats do. Dammit humans, don’t be assholes.
Meanwhile, Tippi and Manny are tolerating each other. And great news; a friend in Potomac has spoken for Manny! It’d be a perfect fit, as she’s amazing (with animals, and in general), and though she already has two, she used to have a third, a ginger named Rosie, and so a new ginger kitty would be just and right.
Looks like Tippi must have taken a swipe at Manny yesterday – I went to the vet with Manny for an eye follow-up (not worse, but not healing as well as hoped). They said that Manny has a cut by his bottom.
Tippi – apparently when I was out of the bedroom for a second – opened a quarter inch gash in Manny, by his sphincter.
I don’t have the ability to keep these two from tearing at each other, aside from keeping one locked in a bedroom for the rest of his or her life.
I’m going to have to re-home somebody. It’s going to kill me. But it has to be done. I don’t have the energy or the funds, or the energy (seriously, this is exhausting). It’s gonna break me.
Goddammit. Why the hell did I think I could do this in the first place? I figured, hey – two cats. They’ll keep each other company. Instead? Manny is peachy, but Tippi hates all others (humans excluded.)
So now poor Manny’s schedule is:
* eye antibiotics – every 4 hours
* oral antibiotics (that must be kept refrigerated) – every 12 hours for at least 15 days
* pain meds (that thought were antibiotics, but no) – every 12 hours, wrapping up Wednesday
Manny officially hates my guts right now. I had the temerity to put more antibiotics in his eye when he was sleeping next to me, all trusting like.
Cue the crazy chase music, because Manny decided to pull a Bad Wolf.
So I had to call THE cat queen of Pigtown, and ask for a crate favor. So this afternoon looked like:
Tippi, on the other hand, is well pleased.
Flash to four hours later. Manny has howled, batted things, and basically tried to squeeze through bars.
So I’m trying a work release program. If he doesn’t make me work? He’s released (into the wilds of the second bedroom.)
Monday he gets a follow-up. I’m dreading it, because he hates it so. But fingers crossed for healing! Because I can’t put him through much more. And there’s still 8 12-hour treatments to go. Poor binnie.
Off to get him his favorite Thing On A String. I’m a pushover.